


The Days and Weeks Ahead

by flux_eterna



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Kissing, Mass Effect - Freeform, Non-Canon Relationship, Turians, first fic, first piece, kiss prompt, light and fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 15:35:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12061935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flux_eterna/pseuds/flux_eterna
Summary: Sweet little fluff piece I did to get into the groove of writing again, a warm-up of sorts from a Tumblr prompt, "Kisses because everything hurts right now including being loved by you but you’re also the only thing that makes it feel better."  Don't see much on this pairing, and I think they're interesting together.  So, enjoy--and please feel free to offer any constructive criticism!DISCLAIMER: I do not own Mass Effect or any characters included in this piece.  They are solely the product of BioWare; I just use them to do my bidding.





	The Days and Weeks Ahead

“How in the hell did we end up here?” she whispered, darkness interrupted only by the soft blue glow of the aquarium in her spacious loft. This is a question she found herself asking inward often, given the play of recent events. When had their relationship taken such a turn, and why oh why does it feel anything but wrong?

She peered over her shoulder while laying on her side, enveloped by the warmth emitting from her slumbering partner’s body. Three years ago, she pictured herself anywhere but here. Commander Shepard, Savior of the Citadel, Vanguard of Salvation to this cycle, back from the dead and the only one in the galaxy with solid convictions of what was coming, what they all needed to do to prepare, and the one so vehemently denied by the very person she was sharing her quarters with in that moment.

Commander fucking Shepard, in bed with Councilor Sparatus, the rest of the galaxy none the wiser. There was something that should be wrong about this, there should be some pull at her gut telling her to throw in the towel, that this was a waste of time—but, the pull in her heart in that moment was so much stronger than even she wanted herself to believe. She could only tell herself they hated each other for so long before one of them tore through the ever increasing tension that riddled every meeting they would have.

She scooted her body gently back, smoothly enough as to not wake Sparatus from his dreamless sleep. She knew that sort of sleep was hard to come by these days, so anything in her power to ensure her bedmate had the rest he needed while they were docked on the Citadel was her top priority, at least for tonight. Tonight, it was just them. Mundane, normal, just a regular couple (species be damned) shielding themselves from the ever mounting horrors of war. His arm lazily made its way to her waist and she smiled. She was very much not turian, and he was very much not human—but they just seemed to fit. And then, that was all she wanted and all she needed, right at once. With a deep breath and a contented grin, she let her mind wander.

When the Reapers hit, leaving Earth to fend for itself was one of the hardest things she’d had to do to date. She longed to be fighting side by side with her Alliance ilk, despite the six months of lockup that had kept her and the rest of the galaxy from preparing as they truly needed to. Nobody believed her, not in the sense that she needed them to—the urgent, things really will end forever, please just fucking listen to me and do something NOW kind of sense—and now; now it was too late. The Reapers were here, and they were forced into reaction rather than the proactive approach that Shepard had urged was necessary, and now herself, her team, and those she convinced to work with her from any species who would listen, they—they were the galaxy’s only hope.

She closed her eyes once more, breathing deeply the smell of his cologne—some turian spice, she thought to herself—and a scent that was purely his. Not like the scent of gun oil and metal that followed Garrus around, not like the elegant palette of fragrances that followed Primarch Victus while he was aboard. No, this smell was distinctly Sparatus and something that she had come to realize was also distinctly hers. 

She knew a little bit about how turians communicated with each other, specifically in courting, romance, and mating contexts. She knew that turians didn’t kiss, at least not how humans did. A forehead nuzzle here, physical affection in private spaces there. Turians didn’t show affection as publicly as other species did, but behind closed doors they were almost insatiable, and not necessarily in a sexual way. It seemed that Sparatus at least just craved closeness, would jump at any opportunity to sit next to her, to nuzzle the side of her face, lovingly grasp her waist as if it was the last thing he would ever touch.

She also knew that the physical attributes of turians that were markers of beauty in their culture didn’t necessarily translate to human beauty standards, but they had adapted nonetheless. Shepard admired his strong build, chest to waist ratio, and bold colony markings; and he admired her trim waist, scars, and tattoos spackling the surface her body. Like her tattoos, her scars (the ones that Cerberus had left from her previous life, anyway) painted an image of victories won and lost, long nights of drinking with her shipmates that ended in broken glass or face-plants into concrete, and of lives she failed to save. They painted a picture that was hers and hers alone, and he thought that picture was beautiful. 

But, what she found most interesting about the myriad ways in which turians communicated feelings and intentions, was the smell. It never smelled bad, never smelled out of place, it just smelled…different. She came to learn later that the smells that had been wafting around her were pheromones. Different from the scents that followed humans around—like body odor, for one—pheromones were just another way for turians to read one another. They said things like stress, anger, fear, love, lust, and desire. Things like “I care for you,” and “I want you,” and “I’m terrified for you.” 

The smells she was getting off of Sparatus at the moment were catalogued in her mind, as innately she had no idea what they had meant at first, not until she really got to know her turian. There was love there, like sweet, clean smelling flowers at the onset of spring in Earth’s more temperate regions. There was comfort, a honeyed note that accented the anguish—a charred, bonfire scent—and seemed somewhat out of place. And there was love. Like the smell of chamomile emanating from a fresh cup of her favorite tea. And there was something else, something she couldn’t exactly place what it reminded her of, but that was the smell that was hers, and she had some to long for that scent lingering around her quarters.

She never noticed it until that day on the Citadel, the day that he told her that while he couldn’t be the one to get her the resources she needed for Earth from the turians, but he could tell her how to get it. And it was on that day that everything changed.

In the turmoil of the war, she had initially written it off as some semblance of scrambling for comfort, for familiarity. They had a tumultuous relationship before, but that turmoil seemed grounded in mutual respect. Sparatus was doing everything in his power to abate the masses, and while Shepard had a hard time accepting that, she finally realized that had the council confirmed her theories publicly, that council space would have fallen into chaos. No, this situation needed to be handled delicately, and delicacy wasn’t necessarily a trait that Shepard was known for. Now she got it, she knew why—though, in her heart, she wished that he could have convinced others to act in some way—it would have been better than doing nothing. 

But, the past was the past. There was nothing that they could do to go back and change it now. No, now was just that—now. And it was up to them to make the most of it.

She felt him stir and grip her waist slightly tighter, as if letting go would be the worst thing he could do. Palaven was burning despite krogan and turian efforts to abate the crisis, Earth was scrambling for any foothold they could get, and Thessia was quickly becoming a new disaster all on its own. In those few blissful moments of sleep, they could just pretend for a moment that they were all that mattered, that they were the galaxy and everything in it, wrapped up in each other and Reapers be damned.

His eyelids opened at a crawling pace, glancing down at the woman buried in covers against his chest. Raven black hair bunched up and tangled in a mandible, and all he could do was smile and look at the woman before him. For all of the things that he wished he could go back and change, for all of the things that he could have done differently—she was his, and he was most certainly hers. It hurt, sometimes. Knowing that for so long, the council—and by extension, himself—was the source of so much of her anguish, so many of her fears that they would never be prepared enough for the coming onslaught. Now, though, the pain just fueled what he felt for her, how truly lucky he was to have this terrifying, beautiful creature entrusting him at her back.

She stirred, interrupting him from his silent musings on the past. She outstretched her arm to rest beneath his fringe and above his cowl, turning to face him while pulling her matted black hair away from his mandible. 

“Hi,” she said, sleepily grinning at him.

“Hi yourself, beautiful,” a near breathless whisper.

A swell of pain stretched up from his heart to his throat, and he could wait no longer to tell her. These moments were all fleeting and all too few. In just another 40 hours, she would be parting the Citadel once more and Sparatus would find himself longing for these sparse moments with the Commander, stripped of rank and formalities and just them. He needed to say this now, or he may never get another chance.

“Something on your mind, councilor?” she asked, with that wily grin of hers that he held so dear.

With a sigh and an outstretched hand, running a taloned finger along the bold and structured line of her jaw, he said “I really hate it when you call me that when we’re like…this.”

“Like what, counc—I mean, darling,” she quipped, voice laden with sarcasm.

“Like..us. Us, Viv. What are we?”

“Does it really matter, Sparatus?” She asked him, not unlike the tone that she often took to the council when in their chambers, but with just a little more softness than her usual interrogations entailed.

“It does matter, to me. We never had the best start, and now? Now, while everything is burning, the whole galaxy falling apart, I find myself inherently drawn to your tenacity, your prowess. You are a marvel of your species, Shepard. And I do not know what I did to deserve having you by my side, but spirits I do not ever want you to leave. Not from the Citadel, not from this loft, and by the spirits, not from my arms. You have been the one person in the galaxy to bring me hope for a better future, not just for Earth or Palaven after the Reapers have been dealt with—but for us all, Viv. We are all counting on you, and it hurts knowing that I am one of the hurdles that you have had to overcome to do your job. It pains me knowing that I kept you from saving your people, our people, and now the only comfort that I can find is keeping you safe, in keeping you happy, in keeping you in my arms. Why does it have to hurt so much, Viv?”

She averted her eyes from his and thought quietly for a moment, faintly hearing the undertones through his little diatribe gave way to the brutal honesty of his words. This did hurt. It hurt a lot, knowing that these moments might not last, that these could be some of the few bright lights of hers left in the ever dimming galaxy. She thought that these fleeting comforts she found with him might be his way of paying some debt he felt that he owed her for all he put she and her team through leading up to this war, that it was some semblance of guilt left over from feeling that he wasn’t doing the right thing. She gazed back up to him, eyes welling up from the dawning realization that some of these moments with him may very well be near the last.

She said, “Look, Sparatus. I’m not going to sit here and pretend that we have always been on the best terms. We hated each other, and really didn’t understand each other at all until the start of this war, when you offered to help me. Which, don’t get me wrong, I REALLY appreciated.”

He laughed a soft chuckle, subharmonics trilling with warmth. He really did love this woman.

“But, if these are our last moments together, then I want to make them count. I don’t want you feeling guilty about what could have been, and I don’t want to hurt you more by making promises that my gun can’t cash. So, how about this. Until after the war is over, I am yours. You are mine. And we just figure the rest out later. Neither of us can make promises right now, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t find comfort in the pain together. I don’t think that I’ll ever stop hurting, not after the things I’ve seen in this war. And I know you have your own issues of guilt to work through. Just, don’t forget that you’re making good on it now, you know?”

“I suppose I can see where are coming from, Viv. I just…I do not want to lose you, and if I do, I do not want to be the reason that something else could have been done to save you,” Sparatus said, cupping the side of her face with both a strength and gentleness that was purely unique to turians.

Viv closed her eyes and a single tear met a talon. He looked at her, subharmonics trilling with something like love, regret, and hope all at once while the smell of chamomile closed in on her. She gently stroked the underside of his fringe, gaining a soft purr from him. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to hers in an intimate turian gesture, and said softly, “I know this is less than ideal. But, no matter how much it hurts to know that I have been the cause of some of your pain, know that I will hurt over and over and over again if that means an opportunity to stay by your side. I am drawn to you, Viv. Forever and always. And no matter how all of this goes down, no matter what outcomes await us, I hope that you come back to me.”

She looked at him again, with love behind her eyes, and pulled him in for a sweet human kiss. She nudged her tongue behind his mouthplates, tangling with his for a brief moment before nudging her forehead back up against his.

Through whatever pains await, Sparatus knew that this woman, this stunning light teetering on the edge of darkness—she was worth all of them. He felt her relax and he followed suit, shielding each other from the days and weeks ahead.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first little fic, so like I said before--feel free to leave me constructive feedback. I intend on practicing little prompts like this with femshep/various turians, because I am wanting to get in the groove of writing those relationships. If there's anyone in particular you'd like to see, just drop me a line! 
> 
> Looking forward to getting back to my creative self <3


End file.
